


I Learned a Lot About the Way of Things

by RisingShadows



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scho loves Blake so much everyone, Tom Blake Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23255050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingShadows/pseuds/RisingShadows
Summary: Tom Blake is a shadow Will can't ignore.
Relationships: Tom Blake & William Schofield, Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 1
Kudos: 63





	I Learned a Lot About the Way of Things

Will watches the Private when he talks and can’t quite hold to the same distance he creates with the rest of them. Can’t consider him another nameless, faceless soldier that may simply become another nameless, faceless body.

No, Private Blake is a storm he can’t avoid. He batters down the defences Will’s laid so carefully. 

But more importantly he shines in a way Will’s seen before. In a way Will knows the trenches will slowly take from him and he wishes, desperately hopes, that maybe just maybe that wouldn’t happen to this newest one. 

He begs the world at large in the slightest hope that this boy won’t become the newest victim of this war. Won’t become another casualty of the trenches like so many before him. He is too bright, too kind, too young. Tom Blake is many things and none of them can be ignored. 

And more than that, he doesn’t give Will a choice. He trails behind him like a dutiful shadow he can’t quite shake, just close enough to know he’s there without forcing his presence. Just close enough that after a time, Will begins to realize that he doesn’t want him to leave. 

Doesn’t want to wake up one day to realize that the shadow that's been following him is no longer there. No longer just close enough to hear and see and feel. And all at once he knows that this shadow is too bright, too kind. That he doesn’t fit in this position he’s placed himself as Will’s shadow. 

All cheerful chatter and bright smiles. Even when they sit- the boy just close enough that anyone watching would think they’re sitting together- and the boy stops talking and naps or fills the time in some other mundane way. Even when Will is shaking through those rough days where he can’t quite remember why he’s still fighting a war he no longer understands. When he feels he should’ve been left behind in the mud like all those boys who entered the war with him and never came home.

Like all those at the Somme, like the other golden soldier boys he’s seen before. 

And then the boy becomes Blake, and Blake understands and suddenly he doesn’t think he could bear to lose this one. This one with wide smiles and gentle eyes. And Blake goes from Private to Lance Corporal and Will can’t quite stop the quiet pride he feels as the boy beams at him.

It’s odd to realize that there's someone here who can read into his silence. Who can look at him and know exactly what he thinks of a particular story, of an order as the men grumble and he stands like a statue behind them. 

And then the boy is gone. And he remembers, remembers why he had stopped learning the names of the new ones. Of those still soft enough to believe in kindness, in mercy. The boys blood bubbles between his fingers and he holds himself together. 

He won’t cry when Blake needs him, needs his comfort. 

Only Blake doesn’t need him. Blake is gone, nothing but a red stain on his hands, a letter carefully hidden in his tin. And a task, a man he needs to find, “looks like me… a bit older.” His hands are shaking, the murmur of voices around him nothing but a reminder of the one that should be there. 

He wakes, unable to remember why he’d fallen. He wakes and runs through a burning town and for a moment he thinks the boy is there.

He isn’t, the church is on fire, buildings nothing but desecrated shells that line the streets. And then he’s in a house, lit by firelight and looking a woman in the eyes and all he can see is his sister. Is Eleanor and her daughters as he lowers his rifle and whispers to her, as he looks at the foundling she cares for and offers a rhyme. 

He finds the brother. Just like him, a little older. 

He lies, he knows he shouldn’t but he won’t offer something that will only bring more pain. Besides, Blake was always able to read his eyes, he doubts his brother believes his lie. 

Blake asks him to stay, takes him as his Sergeant. Blake doesn’t hold it against him even though Will knows he should. Knows he should have known better. Shouldn’t have caved to the others kindness. 

Will wonders, wonders what he would have done if he’d still been new. Still been the same boy that followed his brother in law to war. 

And then a letter comes, and Blake takes Will by the arm and drags him away from the men. Takes him where they will be alone and sits and offers him another piece of paper with a gentle smile. 

And the boy isn’t gone anymore. 

Tom isn’t gone anymore. 

The weight that had been crushing him lessens, twists and all Will wants to do is go. The elder Blake smiles and Will, Will smiles back. A small almost forgotten thing. 

When leave comes he finds himself standing transfixed in the shadow of the Lieutenant, Blake's mother offering both men tights hugs as if Will was meant to be here. Was more than the intruder he was, more than the man who had been lost to the trenches and the blood, and mud, and grief. 

And Blake is there, Tom is there, eyes wide. Surprised as he steps towards where Will remains transfixed and the Lieutenant is gone and his mother is gone and Will knows, knows he’ll break. 

This time he makes no attempt to hide it. No attempt to seem composed as Tom leads him to the chairs on the other side of the room. As Tom takes his hands in his and Will listens, listens to the boys voice. To stories that seem to weave themselves around him. Listens to the boy he’d lost, who isn’t lost anymore. 

Tom smiles at him, wide and soft and pure in a way Will can never be again. And Will is not so afraid. Not so afraid returning to the front on the heels of his brother and knowing, knowing that one day he’ll return to this golden boy. 

This boy with dark hair and kind eyes. This boy who leads him out to the orchard, guides him to sit beneath the Cherry trees that so remind him of the soldier boy. And it is enough. 

Enough to know that this boy will be waiting, waiting for him to come home. Waiting to put him back together as he has so many times in the trenches when it was too much and Will was lost. 

Enough to know that he doesn’t need to be lost anymore when this boy will always be there to call him home. To teach him all that he’s forgotten. 

**Author's Note:**

> Was planning on waiting to post this tomorrow after I'd had more time to edit it but just found out I'll be busy all day so i did a quick edit and I'm just going to have to hope this makes sense.  
> This is just another 1000 words of Scho being absolutely in love.
> 
> Might rewrite some parts of this tomorrow it doesn't flow as well as I'd like.


End file.
